


The Magical Delights Of Stevie Nicks

by FrozenHearts



Category: American Horror Story, American Horror Story: Coven, Supernatural
Genre: Dean Hates Witches, Demon Deals, Fleetwood Mac, Gen, Implied/Referenced Drug Use, Mentioned Cordelia Fox, Misty and Papa Legba have an odd friendship, Soul Selling, Soulless Sam Winchester, Stevie Nicks References, Voodoo, Witches
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-06-15
Updated: 2016-06-15
Packaged: 2018-07-14 06:41:55
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,219
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7157888
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/FrozenHearts/pseuds/FrozenHearts
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Sam and Dean track down a witch named Misty Day, only to find her hanging out with deity Papa Legba.</p>
<p>Really, just another normal day in their lives.</p>
            </blockquote>





	The Magical Delights Of Stevie Nicks

**Author's Note:**

> I've been watching American Horror Story recently and this kind of ended up happening.

Dean decided the day that Sam brought him back from the dead that he hated witches. Despised what they were, with their cryptic speech and petty hexes. He knew dealing with witches was no walk in the park, but Sam had to be crazy for wanting to hunt down this Misty Day chick.

"And you said she lives here?" Dean asked, stepping up to the large white doors with a gleaming silver knocker.

"It was either this or her swamp house," Sam said. Dean nodded, gaze darting to the plaque on the wall. A cast iron piece inscribed with wrought silver words.

 "Miss Robichaux's Academy For Exceptional Young Girls," Dean read aloud with a smirk, "all girls school, huh?"

Sam shook his head, "This was a school for witches. Still is, so shut up."

Sam knocked on the door, the sound ominous against the painted white wood. They could hear music from the windows, the scuffle of feet accompanied by laughter. Dean was about to turn back around but the creak of the door stopped him, a teenaged boy with blonde curls poking his head out.

"May I help you?" he asked, raising an eyebrow.

Dean pursed his lips. First witches now this kid? He could see a thick scar roping around his neck, one faded and white under his left eye.

A real Frankenstein. Crap.

"I'm Dean, this is my brother, Sam," Dean cleared his throat, "we were told a Misty Day lived here?"

Kyle nodded, averting his gaze as he ooened the door and gestured for them to come in. The walls were stark white as they were ushered down the corridor to the parlor, making Kyle's black suit stand out immensely. 

The parlor was cavernous, the walls adorned with multiple portraits and paintings. Many were depicted with old garb while others were fairly recent. Dean stoppes to stare at a portrait of a middle aged woman with a thin body. She was painted with a form fitting black dress and blonde hair done in an immaculate blown out style.

Dean gestured to the tight lipped smile she wore. "Guess she wasn't ready for picture day, huh?"

"That is Fiona Goode," Kyle said with slight disdain, "the former leader of this coven and former Supreme."

Supreme? Dean thought that was a bit political. Did witches follow politics? 

Sam cleared his throat, "And, uh, who is the most recent Supreme?"

Kyle gave them a wary glance, gesturing to the space behind the brothers, "Miss Cordelia Fox. Although as she's out right now, Miss Misty Day has been.... entertaining in her stead."

Dean nodded, giving Kyle a tight lipped smile. The butler jutted his chin at the opposite end of the room. The brothers followed his gaze to see a set of couches on a white shag carpet, two occupants lounging and laughing loudly. The woman's laughter was throaty, rasping in the cavernous parlor. Her friend, a dark skinned man with a tall top hat, accompanied her laughter with pained wheezes, his head ducking down every other second.

"Misty Day, as you requested," Kyle gave a stiff nod before turning and walking down the hall. Dean watched him disappear around the corner and into an adjacent room. The brothers approached the couches warily, until they stood between the two.

Dean cleared his throat, "Uh, are you Misty?"

The woman cut her laughter short. Her blonde hair was long and a mess of curls, and Dean bit his lip at the gleam in her eyes. That kind of look Dean knew well. That look.was in.the eyes of demons and assholes like Crowley.

And now that look belonged to witches too. Great.

"Yeah?" the woman snapped with a Southern accent. Her shawl slipped slightly to reveal a pale shoulder and the strap of an olive green dress. She looked then up and down, "Who's asking, darling?"

Dean licked his lips, "Right, well, me and my brother here were wondering if you could help us with something." 

Misty looked to her friend, and after a few seconds they were laughing, loud harsh cackles sending chills down Dean's spine. Sam looked indifferent, if not slightly annoyed.

"Well, Dean, there you go," Sam said with a huff of breath, "they won't help us. C'mon, let's go."

Dean pursed his lips as the laughter died down, "No, Sam. You want your soul back or what?"

Misty and her pal gave the brothers intrigued glares, but Dean ignored them.

"I'd go with or what, Dean," Sam snapped.

Misty's friend laughed, "I see paradise is not as nice, eh?"

Dean glared at the man, his face covered in white powders, his eyes a venomously bright red. Misty smiled, showing off two rows of gleaming pearlt whites. Raising a hand, she flicked her fingers anf the music was cut.

"Papa Legba is more of an expert on souls, boys," Misty said, "I dabble a bit more with Resurgence myself."

Dean lookes at Misty's friend, this Papa Legba character. His head was bowed as he dragged long gold nails against the glass coffee table, bringing a white substance to hia nose with a deep whiff.

"So you want me to trust a crack addict?" Dean scoffed.

Misty rolled her eyes, "Hon, it's either he does the crack before seeing into your being or you kill an innocent once a year. Just go with it."

Sam jutted his chin at Papa Legba, who had just finished snorting, "Aren't you some sort of Deity? Hatian, right?"

Papa Legba gave a feral grin, "Seems the soulless one has done his research."

Sam rolled his eyes, "Listen, pal-"

"You want to make a deal with me, I know," Papa Legba cut him off, "but I am looking into both you and your brother. You don't have anything to give me."

Dean raised an eyebrow, "Okay, Sam might not have anything, but I do. Is this some sort of Voodoo trick of yours?"  Misty reached over ans slapped Dean's arm, giving him a glare.

"Don't be rude!" she demanded.

Papa Legba's grin seemed to stretch menacingly, red eyes narrowed, "T'is true. You may think you have something to offer me, but you don't. I cannot complete a deal with you."

Dean gaped, "What? There's no way I don't have anything. You want money? What about weapons-"

"You can even take his car if you want," Sam interjected smugly, his tone dry, "thing is a clunker anyway." 

Papa Legba shook hia head, hia dreadlocks swaying in his face, "I cannot. I am sorry, but it is the truth.You don't have what I want, so I cannot do it."

Dean glanced between Misty and Papa Legba. Mist. was bobbing her head, and she pushed herself off the couch to move to the center of the room. They watched as she twirled around, the fringe of her shawl curling with her as she moved.

"Is she humming Fleetwood Mac?" Sam asked Dean with a smirk.

"Dude, The Mac is awesome," Dean berated his brother, "now let's go. These two hippies aren't going to be any help."

"You think?" Sam snorted, following Dean down the corridor to the front door.

They could hear Stevie Nick's twangy music even aa they shut the door behind them, with Misty singing along at the top of her lungs.

**Author's Note:**

> If you want to request anything, message me on Tumblr @coloringpencils


End file.
